


Coming home

by alixintooblivion



Series: Blossom Farm [2]
Category: Stardew Valley (Video Game)
Genre: Moving Out, Supernatural Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-01
Updated: 2020-06-01
Packaged: 2021-03-02 19:14:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,768
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24491860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alixintooblivion/pseuds/alixintooblivion
Summary: Dana leaves home for the first time, and arrives in Stardew Valley.
Series: Blossom Farm [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1661716
Kudos: 6





	Coming home

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone! Hope you're faring well in these difficult times :)

Denise was loudly sobbing. Dana tried to ignore her, but her hands were shaking as she gave her suitcase to the bus driver to be put with the others, and she dreaded the moment when she’d have to turn back to face her parents. _What a farewell_ , she thought guiltily, _what a nice family picture to show strangers._ A crying mother, an embarrassed father, and their traitorous daughter. Nevertheless, it was time. She took a steadying breath and turned back towards them.

Her mother was hanging off her father’s arm, swaying slightly in place, a handkerchief grasped in her free hand, staring her down even though tears were rolling down her cheeks. Dana had to remind herself that her decision was already made, and that she just needed to take that final step. But her mother’s tears had always had a strong effect on her, and had more than once caused her to abandon plans even after she’d worked hard to put them into motion. _Not today_ , she reminded herself firmly. _Keep it together. Just a few minutes longer_.

In comparison, her father seemed downright cheerful. His smile was sad, yes, but at least he wasn’t on the level of public emotional outbursts. Yet. It was him who broke the awkward silence.

“Guess it’s time, then,” he said. Dana nodded.

“Yeah.” She took another deep breath. “I’ve got to go.”

“You can come back anytime,” her mother managed through the sobs.

“I know, mom,” Dana said, trying to smile reassuringly.

“You’ll be fine,” her father assured. “I’m sure you’ll do great, Danie.”

“Thanks, dad.”

She took a step forwards and wrapped her arms around them. They hugged her back tightly, in a way they hadn’t done in a long while. “I’ve got to go now. I… I love you both,” she said, managing to keep her voice level.

“Call us as soon as you get there,” Denise asked as Dana was boarding the bus.

Dana nodded. She turned back one last time, and took in the sight of her parents standing at the bus stop, her mother still crying, her father still smiling. “Bye,” she managed.

She smiled and waved at them through the window, and they waved back. And when the bus turned around the corner, Dana allowed herself to cry, too; fat, silent tears that she didn’t bother to wipe away. She pulled out the piece of paper she’d written her itinerary on, but she couldn’t read it, the letters blurring and fading as she wrestled with the fear and the joy, the excitement and the sadness fighting in her, and she crumpled it in her fist, staring blindly at the neon lights in the street. She had a long trip ahead, but she could already tell that she wouldn’t be able to fall asleep.

She arrived in Pelican Town fourteen hours later, exhausted beyond belief, after three bus changes. A red-headed, middle aged woman was waiting for her at the bus stop. Dana tried to answer her warm smile with one of her own, though her suitcase bumping painfully into her legs was distracting her.

“Hello !” the woman said. “You must be Dana.”

“Yes, it’s me. It’s nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you too. I’m Robin, the local carpenter. Mayor Lewis sent me here to fetch you and show you the way to your home. He’s there right now, tidying things up for you arrival.”

“Oh! That’s very kind of him,” Dana said, wrangling her suitcase onto the dirt path. Robin was leading her towards what she instantly recognized as the main entrance to the farm; the trees had grown and the decor was different from what she remembered, but the faded sign, with its tacky sunflowers (one of which was her own artwork) and vintage lettering still stood there, drowning somewhat in a sea of young spring leaves : Blossom Farm was waiting for her. Dana smiled to herself, taking a deep breath of the fresh country air to invigorate herself.

“This is Blossom Farm,” Robin announced when they’d reached the small cottage.

This was _not_ Blossom Farm, Dana thought, horrified. This was not the idyllic playground she remembered so well. The cottage was a decrepit, small cabin, the paint long faded; the pond was only a small water hole, not the lake she remembered swimming in as a kid, and the grounds… Well, it was obvious the woods had won the battle that his poor Grandpa had fought for all these years. Trees, weeds, shrubbery off all kind littered the farm, and Dana even spotted a few boulders. There was not an inch of viable farmland, she realized with growing horror.

“What’s the matter?” Robin chuckled. She’d obviously noticed Dana’s crestfallen face. “Sure, it’s a bit overgrown, but there’s some good soil underneath that mess! With a little dedication, you’ll have it cleaned up in no time.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” Dana said, pouring as much determination as she could muster into her voice. She hadn’t expected it to be easy. She’d have to pick up where her Grandpa left off, that was all. She had nothing but time, after all.

She followed Robin to the cottage’s front door. “...And here we are, your new home,” Robin said, with a delighted smile.

Now that she wasn’t looking at it through the lens of her happiest childhood memories, Dana could see that the house wasn’t in that bad of a shape. The wood seemed solid, if discolored, and the building stood tall and proud, with only a little damage as proof of the fifteen years that had passed since Dana had last seen it. It would be perfect, she decided.

The door suddenly opened, startling her mid-daydream. Mayor Lewis gave her a warm smile, and Dana, endeared by his tacky yellow cravat and worn suspenders, a look that she’d seen on her Grandpa more than a few times, beamed back at him.

“Ah, the new farmer!” Lewis said, cautiously walking down the stairs to join the two women. “Welcome! I’m Lewis, Mayor of Pelican Town.”

“I remember you,” Dana said, shaking his hand. “Though I must have changed a lot since the last time I was here.”

Lewis chuckled. “You’ve grown a lot,” he commented. “You know, everyone’s been asking about you. It's not every day that someone new moves in. It’s quite a big deal!”

Dana smiled awkwardly. She wasn’t quite ready for small town gossip. Thankfully, Lewis turned back towards the house, with a sigh.

“So… You’re moving into your grandfather’s old cottage,” he said. “It’s a good house. Very… rustic.” Dana had to agree. But a house was a house. Right?

“Rustic? That’s one way to put it,” Robin snickered. ““Crusty” might be a little more apt, though.” Dana couldn’t help but chuckle, but Lewis seemed appalled at her rudeness.

“Don’t listen to her, Dana,” he protested. “She’s just trying to make you dissatisfied so that you buy one of her house upgrades.” Robin scoffed, crossing her arms, but seemed to have no defense. “Anyway…” Lewis went on, “ you must be tired from the long journey. You should get some rest.”

Robin and Lewis left, with a recommendation from the latter to get familiar with the town the day after and introduce herself to the Pelican Town denizens as soon as possible. Dana had intended to do it, anyway; her father had warned her that in small towns, community was extremely important. She really didn’t want to gain a reputation as a rude, unfriendly city slicker. She might be new in town, but she’d show everyone she could be just as friendly as any of them, she decided, with renewed determination.

She hauled her suitcase to the cottage’s front door and let herself in. The main room was a tiny one, and she was pleasantly surprised to find it impeccably clean. She’d have to write a note to mayor Lewis to thank her - that was the best welcome she could have hoped for, she thought, eyeing the small bed which awaited her, with fresh sheets and a very comfy-looking pillow. She steeled herself to hold on a moment more before going to sleep, continuing her inspection.

A nice, vintage fireplace, a small table with a chair, an old dresser; nothing fancy, but it was hers to call home, Dana thought, immensely satisfied. An ancient bucket stood in the corner of the room, holding her Grandpa’s old tools. She ran a hand across the pickaxe, smiling fondly. She’d have to seriously get to work the next day, if she wanted to make this work, she thought. But that was tomorrow. And before she could call her parents and reassure them, before she could eat the can of ravioli she’d brought from home and that she’d been dreaming of since she finished her wafer-thin sandwich in the bus, before she could sink into the wonderful cottony embrace of her new bed, there was something she needed to do.

The sun was starting to set, but she could still see clearly enough to make her way towards the western corner of the farm. It was here, in a small shrine built into the stone cliff, that her Grandpa’s shrine stood. His final resting place, under a canopy of trees, watching over the land he’d loved so much. The sight of the dark stone memorial brought tears to her eyes again, and she wished she’d brought him flowers.

“I’m home, Grandpa,” she murmured.

She closed her eyes and stood for a while, waiting for this latest wave of tears to be over, breathing in the wonderfully crisp breeze. When she opened her eyes again, examining the shrine more closely for any signs of damage, she noticed something that had escaped her notice the first time.

There was a folded piece of paper stuck in the crook of a candle holder. She plucked it gingerly, and her heartbeat picked up as she recognised her Grandpa’s familiar scrawl. The note read:

“Dana - Wait for my return at the dawn of the third year.”

At the time, she was mostly confused, but happy that her Grandpa had thought of leaving her a note, even though it was a bittersweet one. Perhaps he had expected to get better again… maybe even well enough to see her enter her third year on the farm. He’d always been a hopeful man, after all. It didn’t occur to her until much later that the note was much too new to have stood on the shrine for fifteen years. She looked through her belongings to check, but she could never find it again.


End file.
